


10 October

by mmmuse



Series: Six Months:  Journey to Love [8]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shift from master and servant to man and wife present challenges for Ross and Demelza Poldark during their first six months of marriage. Inspired by scenes from Poldark 2015, episode 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 October

**Author's Note:**

> This piece follows my previous works and may reference a bit or a bob from them (from time to time) but I think this series could be a standalone. That said, if you'd like to see what has come before, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse) for my works. If there IS a piece to read before this, read [One Night.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/321026). 
> 
> Many thanks to those of you who have left kudos and/or comments here or on Twitter as well as my friend and betas Jackie9448 and Sherylyn. You all inspire me! And speaking of inspiration, I must say thank you to the gaggle of folks I've met over on Twitter lately whose Aidan/Ross tweets have helped to inspire bits of this. Bet you can pick them out. Thanks for letting me play with you!
> 
> At last. One of my favourite moments from Episode four. Enjoy!

Wednesday, 10th October, 1787

Four things were making Demelza Poldark happy and content on this particular Wednesday afternoon. The first was the weather, which had been unseasonably warm over the last several days. She sat on her haunches in the second, her garden, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on her face, and taking advantage of the extended growing period she’d been granted to harvest an abundant crop of peas, beans and onions. Some of these would be added to the third, a lovely black bream Jinny had found in Sawle, which was in the process of being prepared for the fourth: the eagerly anticipated return of her husband from his three-day trip to Truro.

If there were one thing that cast a shadow on her happiness, it was the departure of her new friend and cousin, Verity. She had returned to Trenwith House less than a week ago after having extended her visit to Nampara several weeks. During that time, the two ladies had shared adventures on the moors as Demelza showed Verity the joys of rambling for flora and fauna and the beauty in the simplest of things; more lessons on etiquette and deportment, which she’d continued to practice on a daily basis; embroidery, for Verity had a deft touch with the accomplishment; and long conversations about their dreams for the future. Verity had even confided in Demelza, and they discussed her relationship with Andrew Blamey at length, the conversations often bringing both ladies to tears. Verity was the first confidante Demelza had ever had, and she would miss the company of the lovely, brown-haired woman greatly.

Demelza rose and took her basket of bounty into the house, where she and Jinny shelled the peas to add to the stew before she went into the parlour to practice her letters. She was attempting to write Verity a note.

_Dear Verity,_

_Nampara is not the same without you, my dear._

She went on to describe her day and how she was especially lonely because of Ross’s trip away, before she paused and added, _I have still not shared my other news with Ross._

She set her quill down and reflected on the conversation she and Verity had had on her second-to-last day at Nampara.

_They’d ridden into Truro to shop for some household items and were riding back after the day of shopping. Demelza had been dazzled by the prospect. They had found some sweet oranges, a small table for the parlour, and an Indian screen for the house, before making a stop at the dressmakers. Demelza balked at this at first, but eventually wavered under Verity’s encouragement. They selected a beautiful cranberry red fabric for a new fitted gown, which would be ready by Christmas._

_They chatted amiably on the ride back to Nampara, enjoying the sun as it began its descent into the sea, trying not to think about the parting to come on the morrow. However, Demelza found she could not shake her thoughts without making a final attempt to cajole her new cousin to stay._

_“Must you go home tomorrow?” Demelza asked._

_Verity turned in her saddle and smiled into her eyes. “Francis needs me, but I’ll come again soon.” She paused for a moment. “Did you really hate it today?”_

_“Oh no!” Demelza said, emphatically, reining Rose to a halt. Verity followed suit. “I’m just afeared we spent too much money and it will all be wasted.”_

_Verity blinked and chuckled. “How could it?” Demelza’s heart raced in her chest. She’d held this secret for a week, close to her heart._ Am I ready to share it with someone? _she asked herself._

_Her cheeks grew warm with anticipation and she chose her words carefully. “Only that… perhaps my measuring might not be the same for long,” she said softly, slowing raising her eyes to meet Verity’s._

_Verity’s eyes widened and a dawning smile lit her face. “My dear, do you mean…” Demelza’s own smile could not be contained any longer. “Oh, Ross will be delighted—”_

_“—Oh don’t tell him, not yet,” Demelza interrupted, despite her happiness, the words tumbling from her lips. “See, he’s not liked me for long. And when I get to waddlin’ about like an old duck, he might forget he ever liked me at all.”_

_They shared a laugh before Verity nodded her consent to keep the secret safe. “Ross forgets nothing,” she added, arching her brow in a knowing way._

Garrick barked at something out in the yard, rousing Demelza from her reflections. She looked at the letter again before pressing her left hand to her lower abdomen. She was very early on in her pregnancy. The regularity of her monthly flux had ceased three weeks prior, and she’d wondered if she should have mentioned it to Verity at all, so soon. She’d been so overwhelmed by the realization she remembered having to go out for a walk to steady herself.

She remembered when she first agreed to marry Ross. One of the main reasons was because of the possibility of pregnancy. Only a few days had passed when she discovered that particular worry had not come to be true. The sadness she’d felt was acute. She was surprised she was so affected after such a short period of time, but she’d realized that she almost welcomed the prospect of carrying his child, even at that tenuous point in their relationship. She’d also wondered, given how often she and Ross were intimate – smiling with longing to herself – why it had taken as long as it had for her _to_ get pregnant. Now that it had happened she couldn’t have cared less. She was going to give Ross a child.

But when to tell him? _That_ was the question she found herself brooding about more often than not. There were no outward signs thus far and she didn’t expect there to be for some time. Her mother had had the same figure as Demelza: slim and slender, even with seven children, and had never started to show until her fourth month. Would his interest in her as a lover wane? Would he be afraid he would harm the child? The thought had occurred to her as well. They continued to seek one another out often for pleasure, sometimes more desperately than others. Lately, however, there was more of a desire to linger over and savour the times when they made love. Then there was what Demelza considered to be a concern of sheer vanity. After all, she had not been jesting when she’d told Verity she feared he might not like her after she’d started to grow round and waddle about.

Regardless of these unknowns – all of which would need to be addressed sooner rather than later – she had a feeling Ross would welcome a child into their lives. She remembered how caring and concerned he had been when she’d told him they had no pregnancy to fear after their hasty engagement. She’d been certain he would call it off but he’d reassured her of his desire to marry her, despite the news.

At least she _hoped_ he would welcome it. She knew he had many things on his mind, particularly the mine. His capital continued to wane and they had to use the last bit of gunpowder not three days before. Hence his trip to Truro; his search for capital was never ending. She began to feel guilty about spending money on new furnishings and a new dress that might never fit, when the situation was as dire as it was. The prospect of an extra mouth to feed may not be as welcome now as it had been five months ago.

He was also concerned about the pilchards run for the season, or – rather – the lack of one. The shoals should have been to their coast by mid-September. Now they were nearing the middle of October and there had been no sign of them. With the mine’s prospects more dire than ever, the need for the pilchards had never been greater. And she knew her husband well enough to know he’d not see any of the people he was responsible for starve, not if there was anything he could do about it.

Suddenly, the loud clanging of the bell at Wheal Leisure split the air. _Dear God_ , she thought to herself, _please let this be good news._ She rose to her feet and ran out of the parlour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ross, too, was enjoying the heat of the sun on his face as he swung up onto Darkie’s saddle at Wheal Leisure. It was, unfortunately, the only thing he _could_ enjoy at that moment. The three days of meetings and discussions with current and prospective investors had not gone well. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the continued faith and generosity of Horace Treneglos, Ross was certain they would have closed the mine months before. As it was, he’d only cobbled together enough for one more bit of gunpowder for the boys to try and had stopped along the way home to watch them set their final fuse. They’d done their best to conceal their worry from him, but they were all realists about the situation. They’d known they were going into this venture as a gamble, and their luck was in the process of running out.

He looked out over the expanse of the Wheal Leisure property, at all of the people who swarmed the grounds, doing everything they could to see this through. He could not help but feel as though he’d let them down, that his reckless and impulsive decision making had led them down a merry chase that they would all wind up regretting soon.

He did his best to shake the mood as he turned his gaze to the line of watchers who stood along the cliff’s edge, their hands shading their brows as the search for the pilchard shoals continued. Another twinge of worry ran through his mind: what on earth were they to do if the shoals failed to reach them? While he was in no great shakes, he was infinitely better off than the people who looked to him as their squire. If the fish failed to show, their only hope would be to find enough copper to stop the haemorrhage of capital long enough to see them through winter. Rubbing a gloved hand across his forehead, he tapped Darkie’s sides with his heels and set them on a path towards Nampara.

He did smile at that. He was heading home, to Nampara, the little stone cottage on the bluff and to Demelza. He thought of her often during his absence. He hoped she was faring well after Verity’s departure, since his own had followed shortly thereafter. He’d watched the parting of the new cousins through hooded eyes, hooded so they would conceal the pleasure he’d felt from their time together. He’d been extraordinarily happy to see their friendship grow over the passing weeks. It had been as if the rest of the world could not touch the camaraderie the three Poldarks shared in the cottage on the hill and it gave him a much-needed respite from the realities of the mine – playful games of cards, the sound of music filling the parlour once again after so many years, the reading of novels by firelight. Verity also seemed to be able to sense when he wanted to spend time alone with his wife without him having to say anything, and would – without his realizing it – disappear to her room, leaving Demelza and him to continue their heady, inexorable dance towards one another.

There were moments, during his absence, that the desire he had for her nearly surpassed his ability to cope, as if they’d only been married for days, or hours. And yet, he found himself reflecting on the moments when their lovemaking was languid, gentle and emotionally gratifying with increasing frequency. His mind drifted to the night of his cousin’s arrival and the look of open, unguarded adoration Demelza gave him after they’d made love. _Well, fool,_ he thought to himself, _you asked her what she knew of love, and she showed you._ That look had confirmed what he’d suspected for some time, and it made him uneasy.

He was no longer able to ignore the fact that she loved him. It was expressed in almost every single thing she did for him. He paused for a moment, turning this thought over in his head as he looked out at the sea and watched Darkie twitch her ears and pull her head towards home. If he were being honest with himself, he’d taken advantage of that love over the last several weeks. Not in any way to be cruel or abusive, of course, but all of the times where he nudged her to expand her horizons, to step away from what was comfortable for her. He capitalized on the fact that she had spent the last three years doing whatever she could to please him, and the devotion she had for him as her master had changed, morphed into what he knew she felt for him as her husband. And while the mantle of that love had not chafed before, it certainly did now, for he cared for her, more deeply than he’d thought possible. She’d become woven into all aspects of his life since her arrival at Nampara. Those roots were sunk deep into the ground and grown more resilient with their marriage, the vines now tangling around his limbs and head, and reaching towards his heart.

And, therein, lay the question: was what he felt for Demelza love? He felt great affection for her; that much was true and he’d be willing to shout that from the top of Wheal Leisure for the world to hear. But was that love? Could he give her the words now, knowing that there was still a place in his heart where she could not touch, the place reserved for another? _Reserved for Elizabeth,_ he chided himself. _If I insist on holding a piece of myself from my wife, have the courage to use her name._

Saying Elizabeth’s name, even in his own head, made him feel guilty and slightly sickened. He was shaking his head to clear these troubling thoughts from his mind when the mine bell rang. He kicked Darkie into a canter and started up the path. He heard the shrill cry of a heur from the cliffs, shouting, “Heva! Heva!” and the screech of gulls offshore before first one, then three, then many of the miners, their wives and children began racing past him, running in the opposite direction of his travel. He swivelled in his saddle and squinted his eyes towards the sea.

There they were. The pilchards had come at last. Ross felt a surge of adrenaline race through his body and he spurred Darkie into a full gallop towards home.

He arrived five minutes later, drawing hard on the reins and slowing Darkie to a dusty trot into the middle of the yard just as Demelza appeared in the doorway. His heart beat faster, and it had nothing to do with the pilchards’ arrival or his wild gallop into the yard.

“I heard the bell,” she said, her red-gold hair shimmering in the sun, skirts flying as she gracefully leapt over a pile of logs in front of her. “What’s amiss?”

What the logs were doing there in the first place was anyone’s guess – although he figured Jud had something to do with it – and it set Ross’s teeth on edge. She could have hurt herself.

“We must leave at once!” Ross ordered, his voice harsher than he intended. “Quickly!” He brought the horse to a halt next to Demelza, who stood, gawping up at him. A second later, her eyes shifted to the ground reminding him of the old Demelza from her earliest days at Nampara, all wide eyes and fear. “What is it?” he asked, impatiently.

“Nothing, sir—” she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ross,” she corrected herself. Her eyes remained fixed at a point somewhere near his ankle. “It’s just…”

He was completely baffled by this sudden return to using his title. “What’s the matter?” _Was there a problem?_

“Sometimes…” she said, finally raising her eyes to meet his, “I do think I displease you.”

Ross gave his head a small shake. What in God’s name was she talking about? And where had this come from? He felt the muscles of his face tighten into a scowl and saw her flinch in response. Her eyes flicked back towards the ground. It made his throat tighten to see her cower in front of him, to know he was the cause of it. And for her to think she displeased him? His mind raced through some of the things he’d been thinking about on his way from the mine and beyond: his pride in her learning to read and do her figures; his appreciation of the way she took care of their home; the pleasure and subsequent contentment he felt after shuddering against her welcoming body; and her willingness to work towards becoming the smart, graceful lady he knew she could be.

Whatever else he may – _or may not,_ his inner voice wheedled – feel for her, she was his wife, and he cared for her, very much. He needed to share that with her.

His face relaxed and he shifted the horse until he was within arm’s reach of Demelza. She looked up at him, her eyes wary. “I’m used to giving orders, and having no one to suit but myself,” he said softly, leaning forward in the saddle, “but you are _far_ from displeasing to me.”

“See, how would I know that?” she said, smiling. Her face changed in an instant, and he was pleased to see the sparkle return to her eyes.

More pleased than he expected to be. “I’ll endeavour to make it clearer,” he said, gently, taking in her green-eyed beauty for the first time in three days before remembering the urgency. “We must go. Make haste!” He shifted back in the saddle, offering her the stirrup to mount the horse’s back. She landed with a hard thump in the saddle in front of him, her left hip nestled against his crotch. He winced a bit, adjusting their seat before wrapping his arm around her waist and grabbing the reins.

Demelza flung her arm around his neck as he clicked his tongue and tapped his heels against Darkie’s sides to set them into a gallop. “Where are we going?” she called out.

He pressed his lips near her ear. “The pilchards! They’ve come at last!” She smiled, turning her face to look up into his eyes. Dazzled, he pressed a kiss on her cheek before returning his gaze to the track ahead of them.

They arrived at the headland to Sawle Cove ten minutes later. Ross could see a dozen boats making their way onto shore where dozens of his employees and tenants from the cottages in Mellon awaited their arrival with baskets of every size and shape. Jud and Prudie were there, baskets in tow, to help along with the Daniel brothers, all of the Martins and the Carters. As the first boats reached shore, Ross and Demelza made their way down towards the beach; Ross’s long legs outstretched Demelza’s within seconds. He paused, taking off his jacket and hat, then turned to offer her his hand as she moved over a particularly rocky stretch. He glanced at her face as she raced past him. It was alight with excitement and happiness, and he found it infectious, his own face breaking into a grin. He tossed his hat and jacket aside, his thumb quickly undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, grabbed an empty basket and jumped into the nearest boat.

Everyone else was similarly employed, reaching into the boat to haul up handful after handful of the shiny, silver fish into their baskets. As soon as they were filled another empty basket was in its place. There was a jumble of cheers, laughter and joyful jibing as they all pitched in to empty the boats as quickly as possible, in order to send them back out for more. Ross would occasionally glance up to check on Demelza and invariably found her giggling at the still wriggling fish in her hands or lifting a basket that looked to weigh as much as she did to place up on the beach. Their eyes met a time or two during their labours. Each time, he was charmed anew by her enthusiasm and her sheer enjoyment of something as simple as hauling in a fresh catch of fish. He found himself wondering if someone like Elizabeth could ever find happiness in the simple things in life, like this, and was able to answer that question rather quickly: no. Not like this.

Within two hours, more than twenty-four boatloads of pilchards had been brought to shore. Ross and Demelza climbed up the beach to watch as the final boats were hoisted out of the water and marched up the steep grade for storage. They were told the estimate was near a quarter of a million fish, one of the largest hauls ever! As the men lifted their burdens up the beach, they wished both Ross and Demelza a good evening, with voices saying, “G’night Ross… g’night ma’am” as they passed. Ross took a quick glance at Demelza’s face as the salutations were given, seeing her blush at the title, but not shift uncomfortably as she had in the past. He felt the corner of his mouth curve up in a grin: one more accomplishment under her belt, and his pride in her grew.

He was buttoning his waistcoat when a thought occurred to him. He pulled out the pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked up at the sky. It was a lovely twilight, quite possibly one of the last warmer evenings they would have for the year. It would take Demelza and him about an hour to walk home. They could make it back by dark if they left now.

Ross grabbed Demelza’s hand. “Come along, my dear,” he said softly. “Shall we walk back home?”

“That’d be lovely, Ross!” She smiled brilliantly and squeezed his hand, and it made his stomach twitch. He saw Jud and Prudie heading away from the beach. “Jud!” he called out.

The man stopped and turned. “Cap’n Ross, sir?”

Ross and Demelza climbed up the hill to where Darkie had been hobbled, near where Jud and Prudie had stopped. He picked up the horse’s reins and handed them to Jud. “Please walk Darkie back up the house, Jud,” Ross said. “The mistress and I will walk back ourselves.” He could sense the servant had much he wished to say about this, but was pleased to see Jud hold his tongue. For once.

“’Tis a lovely night for it, Cap’n Ross, sir,” Prudie said, anxiously looking at her husband. “We don’t mind a’tall, sir.”

Thirty minutes later Ross and Demelza strolled hand in hand along the cliff side path, half of the way to Nampara. Demelza had been pleased by his suggestion for a walk. The suddenness of the pilchards’ arrival had postponed their reunion and they hadn’t had a chance to exchange the briefest of hellos. He kissed her briefly as they set off, but soon found himself smiling over her chatter. They started with the general niceties, giving one another an account of the happenings during their separation. Demelza shared her excitement over the progress she was making with the spinet, the apple preserves she and Jinny made for market yesterday afternoon and that she finished reading the book of poetry he’d given to her before he left on his trip. He raised his eyebrows at the latter accomplishment, for there were quite a few poems in that particular volume. “You completely finished it, Demelza?” he looked incredulously at her. “You didn’t just skip over the ones you could not complete and considered them complete?”

She blushed. “Well, there were a few that were that complicated, Ross,” she said, a plaintive tone entering in her voice. “I just figured we could go over them, together.” She glanced shyly up at him. He nodded, smiling at her laughing eyes.

He was smiling quite a bit, he realized, and for once he didn’t find himself trying not to. _As a matter of fact,_ he pondered to himself: _I feel happier than I have in a long time._ He was walking along the lands he’d known his entire life, the sun was shining, the gulls wheeling and crying for more fish and he was walking hand in hand with his lovely wife. He did not feel the pull towards the unattainable, as had happened in the past whenever Elizabeth crossed his mind. He felt drawn to the spirited, irresistible, redheaded woman by his side. He squeezed her hand and returned his attention to her tales.

Ten minutes later, they received another salutation from some of his tenants. Ross nodded in response before leaning close to Demelza. “Everyone’s happy tonight,” he said softly, in a near whisper. Her breast brushed against the back of his arm as her footsteps brought her closer to his body.

“They like you,” she said brightly.

Ross arched his brow and turned his head to catch her eye. “Nonsense,” he scoffed.

“It’s the truth, I should know, I’m one of them,” she said, directly. He stared out to sea, his cheeks growing warm under her compliment. “You’re a gent. You give them food and work—”

“—And marry you,” he interrupted, more to stop her from continuing with the list of redeeming qualities that _supposedly_ made up his character. He discovered he wanted to think of his decision to marry her as one of his redeeming qualities or, lacking that, to be considered a very smart idea.

“No…” she said, a tease in her voice, “not that.” He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye and saw she had a wry smile on her face. He grinned as well. He would not have her speak ill about herself, not any more. “They don’t know what to make of that, but they like you just the same.”

He turned to face her and saw the sun’s setting rays lighting her eyes a sparkling sea-green, her hair loose and curling around her head, blown by the breeze coming up off the sea. She was so very lovely, in that moment in time and in the others that crowded his mind. He released her hand and slid his right hand along her hip, drawing her closer. A single step more and he leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were warm and supple under his. He raised his left hand to join the right, now resting low on her narrow waist, his thumbs stroking her abdomen. She sighed against his mouth, trembling a bit. He broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes, tender and filled with her affection for him. In that moment, Ross decided he needed to know. Needed to hear the words from her. He searched her eyes for another moment before recapturing her hand in his.

“And you,” he said, turning to continue their walk towards the cottage, “do you like me?” His heart hammered in his chest as he looked out over the sea. What would she say? Would she admit her love for him? And, if she did, what would he say in response? Their bodies continued to bump against each other’s as they walked over the uneven ground, sparking a natural closeness and intimacy that warmed him. Her pause seemed to last a lifetime.

“I could learn to,” she quipped. The tease was back in her voice, the little minx. He released a breath he hadn’t realized was been holding.

She wouldn’t be tricked into revealing herself so easily. He sneaked a glance at her face from the corner of his eye and he liked the coy smile he saw there, felt an answering smile crease his cheeks. “And I, you,” he said, without reservation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They continued their walk in companionable silence. Demelza’s mind was spinning. ‘And I, you’ he’d said. Hope. Those three small words had lit a flicker of hope in her heart that maybe, someday, Ross might wish for more for them, more than friendship or even the intimacy they shared. He’d asked her what she knew of love, and everything she knew she’d learned from her time with him. What started as the devotion one might have for one’s saviour (for in truth, that is what he’d been for her) had grown into something that she could not define with any word other than love. It was all encompassing, seemed to live within every inch of her body. And now? Now that she carried his child within her, it had morphed yet again into something beyond anything she’d ever known.

 _Beyond anything._ She’d said just that to Verity when asked if there was love between her cousins. What Demelza felt for Ross could sustain them both. It would.

They reached the creek that bordered their land. As they stepped across the bridge she came to a stop. Ross turned to her, lifting his brow in question. She stepped close, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding her hands up to cup the back of his head. She drew him down, her lips touching his. His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, their tongues touching, setting off little fires within her stomach, and lower. She leaned back, her pulse fluttering in her throat. “Welcome home, Ross.”

He smiled, looking into her eyes before bringing his left hand up to stroke her cheek. “I’m glad to be home, my dear.” His eyes flicked up the lane towards the gate, still a distance away. “Let’s go.”

He stepped back and recaptured her hand, brushing a kiss on her knuckles before beginning the walk towards the cottage. She noticed his thumb would brush across the back of her hand as they walked. She returned the caress, drawing little patterns until he gave her hand a tug. She quickly glanced up at his face. His eyes – alight with mischief – met hers and his cheeks dimpled. She laughed and skipped away from him, her heart full of the beauty and romance of the evening.

“Come back here,” he called after her, hastening his step to catch up with her. She was reminded of the evening when they’d returned to the house after Jim and Jinny Carter’s wedding. They’d danced together that night, shared ale and glances, the full, appreciative glances of a man towards a woman and a woman towards a man, for the first time in their lives together. And they’d played and skipped home, Ross on Darkie, riding circles around her as she danced and sang in the fields. Tonight, under the fiery red- and purple-stained Cornish skies, Demelza and Ross made their way to the gate together, their steps meandering from the road and into the fields and back, pausing every so often to embrace under the winking stars.

The sun had fully set by the time they reached the yard. The house was quiet. Jud and Prudie were nowhere to be seen, apparently still on the road with Darkie in tow. They stood in the cold parlour, the fire banked hours ago, staring at one another. He crossed the room, sweeping his arms around her waist and kissing her, lifting her off her feet. Storm and fire, she thought as her head spun. Her hands slid up to his head, knocking his hat off his head. Her fingers slipped through his long, silky curls, nails lightly scratching his scalp and making him moan deeply into her mouth. She broke away from his mouth, pressing her lips against his unshaven jaw, pleasantly rough against her skin. “I missed you, Ross,” she whispered in his ear.

He shuddered and set her down, drawing back from their embrace far enough to look into her eyes. His left hand left her back to cup her cheek and stroke her hair. “I missed you too, Demelza.”

Demelza brushed a kiss on his lips. “Shall I start a fire and find us something to eat?” She walked over towards the fireplace to get started. “I imagine the stew Jinny was working on has spoiled by now, but we have some cheese…” She paused, thinking. “And ham.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I _do_ like you, by the way.”

She stopped, her heart dropping to her knees. She whirled to face him. He stood in shadow, so his face was unreadable. As he approached her, he stood in a shaft of moonlight that sifted through the parlour window. His changeable eyes were a whiskey brown, his face unguarded. He appeared to be several years younger than he was. He reached out and touched her hair. “I like your hair,” he said, leaning close to breathe in its fragrance. “The colour of sunset, wild and untamed, or when you wear it up.” He walked around her. “When you wear it up, I like the tendrils that tease you, right here.” His fingers traced over the back of her neck and she shivered. “I like this spot, right here.” He touched the skin between her neck and shoulder. “I’ve liked it ever since that night in May when you came to me.” He leaned forward to brush a kiss on the spot, his tongue coming out to caress it. He leaned back, blowing on the damp patch of skin. Demelza felt gooseflesh erupt along her neck and back, and her nipples hardened in response.

“I like you, too, Ross,” she said, her voice husky. She turned and looked at him. His eyes had darkened, his smile more thoughtful than before. She stepped closer to him and touched his brow with her index finger. “When you twitch your eyebrows,” she said, tracing their lines, “I can tell if you’re angry, happy or teasing.” The backs of her fingers stroked his cheek, the scrape of his beard pleasantly rough. “And I like the way your beard feels against my skin,” she murmured. She leaned up to rub her cheek against his and heard a growl come from his throat.

He traced her collarbone with his finger, then moved it to run back and forth around the edge of her shift, the digit dipping into her cleavage on each pass. Her breasts rose and fell in time with her rapid breathing. “I like your breasts, Demelza,” he whispered in her ear, “so responsive to my touch.” He cupped and squeezed them with his hands. Her nipples tightened against her stays, lightly pinching along the edge. She gasped and shuddered against him.

“R-Ross,” she said, her voice stuttering in her throat as his thumbs pressed against her trapped nipples. “Upstairs, please.” He nodded, brushed her lips with his own before taking her hand. Demelza twined her fingers with his and leaned close to his side. He kissed her forehead, led her through the darkened house and up the stairs to their bedchamber.

She lit a taper and walked around the room to light the candles. Ross’s eyes followed her movements before he knelt next to the hearth to build a fire. She finished lighting the candles and turned to see him adding wood to the kindling, admiring the way the muscles moved under his black wool coat. She walked over to him just as he rose to his feet. He moved with such grace; she imagined he’d had to learn to have a care when moving through the forests of Virginia. He turned, looking at her expectantly. “Can I help you with your coat, Ross?”

He smiled. “You may, my dear,” he said, turning to offer his back. She held the back collar of the coat as he shrugged out of the sleeves. He turned to face her as she held the coat close, her nose pressed into the collar and took in a deep breath. “I like your scent, Ross,” she said, her eyes watching his darken at her actions. “Pipe smoke, the sea, sometimes dusty from the mine, but always something that’s just you.” She set the coat down on the armchair and returned to where he stood. She ran her hands across his chest, the buttons of his waistcoat bumping up against her fingers. “And I like your waistcoats,” she sighed. Her hands slipped up his ribs and around to his back. “I like the way it hugs you tight, so long and lean.” She flicked a glance up at his face, and shivered at the look he gave her: eyes intense, his nostrils flared and lips parted. “May I help you with your waistcoat?”

He nodded. She began to work the buttons loose, pressing a kiss to the linen-covered chest. She leaned back to look up into his beautiful face, his black hair a curling riot around his head. He raised his finger to trace her brows, her cheeks and her lips. “I like your lips, Demelza,” he said, his voice whispering against those lips. “I like kissing them…” a brush of his against hers… “Tasting them with my tongue…” his teeth and tongue nipped at her bottom lip. “And when they taste me,” he growled, taking her lips with his. Demelza surrendered to his kiss, the plunge of his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. Her hands streaked around his back, caressing the hardened muscles under the waistcoat. They trembled against each other, relieving some of the pent-up need through the mating of their mouths.

She tore her lips from his, pressing her head against his chest. “Ross…” she panted. She paused a moment before leaning back to look at him. “This feeling…” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “It’s…” She paused, struggling once again to find the word.

“Overwhelming?” he offered, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she said, rubbing her fingers against her chest, as if to calm her heart’s frantic beating. “Yes, it’s overwhelming, Ross.” He nodded, swallowing before lifting his hands to cup her face. They kissed again, slower now, savouring each other while their fingers attended to hooks, buttons, stays, braces and stocks. Her dress and petticoats soon lay in a heap on the ground. Ross’s hands cupped and caressed Demelza’s breasts, freed from her stays while her hands pulled at the tails of his shirt until they came free from his breeches, then streaked underneath to feel the warm muscles of his back against her palms. She squeezed them, massaging them and making him moan with pleasure. “Demelza, that feels wonderful,” he gasped against her hair. “Sitting a horse for so many hours…” He moaned again, and she delighted in being able to do this for him.

She leaned back, smiling up into his face. “Would you like for me to continue?” she asked.

“What I want to do is take you to that bed and ravish you,” he said, with an airless chuckle. “But your hands feel like magic.”

She leaned against him, running her hands up his back and squeezing the muscles as tightly as she could, feeling him shudder against her. She moved down his spine to his lower back, kneading and caressing until she reached the crest of his buttocks. She paused there, a mischievous smile dawning. She lowered her hands, slipping them underneath the waistband of his breeches and tightly grasped his buttocks. His hips rocked against hers and he groaned aloud as she squeezed and massaged the firm muscles, feeling them flex and tremble under her palms. “I like your bum, Ross,” she breathed, shivering at his response. “I like the way it looks in your breeches, and when I have my hands on it when you’re inside me.”

He growled once again, and his mouth slid down her neck to leave a bite along her shoulder. “Be careful, my dear,” he muttered darkly, “when rousing a bear who has been too long since he last had satisfaction.”

She leaned back, took his hand and led him to their bed. They undressed one another, slowly, despite the trembling need that flashed through their eyes as the minutes ticked past. Once freed from their garments, they lay on the bed on their sides, kissing and touching, legs tangled together until she leaned up to look down on him. “Turn over please, Ross,” she said sweetly.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Demelza,” he warned, a smile twitching the left corner of his mouth, “what are you about, woman?”

“Just turn over, please, Ross!” she giggled, pushing his shoulder until he rolled his eyes and complied with a groan.

“Demelza, I want to make love to you, not the bed,” he grumbled into the pillow. She giggled again before straddling his bottom. He grunted and muttered a startled, “What?” before he groaned anew. Demelza’s hands probed and kneaded the muscles all along his back and shoulders. “Sweet Jesus,” Ross gasped.

Demelza bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, alternately rubbing, massaging and lightly scratching his back with her nails. He groaned and shuddered under her, the muscles of his buttocks flexing and relaxing under her, which rubbed against her womanhood, making her squirm against him. Her need for him grew as she felt him buck under her. She shifted lower, sitting on his thighs and massaging his buttocks. Low, guttural moans wracked his chest as his hands fisted in the bedclothes. She watched him, writhing underneath her, and she found herself rubbing herself against his thigh, her breathing growing shallow, her breasts aching for his touch.

At that moment, Ross growled and raised himself onto his left side and clasped her around the waist. “Enough now,” he rasped, twisting under her until she was seated atop him, his length nestled between her inner lips. She groaned, rubbing her bud against him, her fingers digging into his chest. She rose slightly and watched as Ross guided the head of his penis into her body. “R-Ross!” she sighed, her walls stretching to take his length inside her. They both stilled, breathless, staring into one another’s eyes. Demelza thought she could feel the beating of his heart where they were joined and pressed her hand against his heart to compare. He took her hand and brought it to his lips before returning it to his chest. “I like it when you’re inside me, Ross,” she gasped, leaning forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as she rocked back and forth against him. “You fill me, stretch me, and it feels so good.” He pulled her down into his arms, his hands caressing her back and buttocks. She kissed him, her tongue darting into his mouth to tangle with his, their bodies undulating against one another’s. Demelza broke their kiss, and rose until she sat straight atop his pelvis, twisting her hips against his, her hands coming up to cup and squeeze her breasts. She looked down into his eyes, finding them black with desire, watching her, his breathing harsh.

He sat up, gripping her and turning them over until he was on top of her, and the pace of their lovemaking became more urgent. “I like it when you’re under me,” he growled low in her ear. “And I’m so deep inside you and feel you squeezing me tight.” Her sex did just that at his words and she moaned against his throat. He pushed his hands deep into the mattress and lifted the weight of his upper body away from her before resting on his forearms. He looked at her, his hair a wild mass of black curls surrounding his face. One strand slid down, spiralling down over his forehead, tickled her cheek as it brushed against it.

“I like _your_ hair,” she sighed, her finger coming up to coil the strand around it. “So soft and curling. So much for me to sink my fingers into!” He leaned down to kiss her, and her fingers slid into the black cloud, holding him close. He pressed urgent kisses against her neck, her cheeks, her lips before lowering himself once more into her arms. The small tremors that signalled her release began along her inner thighs, a flush of heat building from the crests of her breasts and moving up her neck to her cheeks. She cried out his name, drawing him close to her in her torment.

She shuddered heavily against him for several moments. He stilled, holding himself on his forearms to look into her eyes. “I like it when you come, Demelza,” he whispered, barely thrusting within her. “I feel you tighten against me, and you’re so wet and slick.” He kissed her lips and neck, withdrawing from her to kiss and suckle her breasts, their tips so sensitive after her climax. She writhed under him as his mouth moved lower, to her abdomen and mound. She opened her eyes to find his gaze, burning hot with desire, looking up her body to her face. “And I like the way you taste,” he said against her mound before his tongue shot out to swipe against her bud. She groaned, twisting against him as his mouth caressed her. He lifted his head, pressing a kiss on her mound before moving back up the mattress to sheath himself within her once more, shifting his weight to the side and bringing her with him, hand clasped to her buttocks to maintain their intimate connection. He grasped her left leg and pulled it up and over his right hip, surging forward within her in a single, smooth thrust. “Demelza,” he whispered, pulling her close and slowly thrusting within her, “come with me, my dear.”

Demelza opened her eyes and fell into his whiskey-brown gaze, his need for her making his skin slick with sweat. He leaned back, letting her set their pace. Demelza gasped as she moved her hips, the hardness of his flesh within the softness of her own. She leaned down to kiss him. “Ross, my dear, Ross,” she whispered as his movements became more frantic as he filled her time and time again. The walls of her sex contracted once again around him. His arms clasped her to him as she trembled in his arms. “Demelza,” he sighed once more and followed her.

~*~*~**~*~*~*

Ross lay awake, watching the light from guttering candles next to the bed flicker against Demelza’s sleeping body. She was nestled against him, her skin still damp and salty from their lovemaking. He ran his fingers through her tangled red-gold curls before running his hand down her back and to her buttocks to tuck her in closer to him before drawing up the bedclothes to cover them.

 _Far,_ very _far from displeasing to me_ , he thought to himself before leaning over to blow out the candle.

**Author's Note:**

> Some sites I researched for this included one for [what veg is available in October](http://www.atypicalenglishhome.com/2014/04/when-to-plant-vegetables-guide.html) because I am horrid with plants and a rather delightful one that Jackie and I had a marvelous time exploring while choreographing the last section. So many ideas, and the animations were quite helpful. Although some of them were downright mind boggling. Warning, though... it's kinda sexy. [Kamaday -- kamasutra positions](http://www.kamaday.com/)...maybe a little [Zen](http://www.kamaday.com/49.html)?
> 
> Finally, I'm so thankful my copy of Emma Marriott's "The World of Poldark" arrived when it did! It had a section on the pilchards that was very helpful. It's a marvelous book!


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